Mark 5: 21-24 (NLT)
Jesus got into the boat again and went back to the other side of the lake, where a large crowd gathered around him on the shore. Then a leader of the local synagogue, whose name was Jairus, arrived. When he saw Jesus, he fell at his feet, pleading fervently with him. “My little daughter is dying,” he said. “Please come and lay your hands on her; heal her so she can live.” Jesus went with him, and all the people followed, crowding around him.
If you thought I cut off the Bible reading abruptly this morning, you’re a very perceptive person. Being the former alcoholic/addict I am, I will do as I have done in the past and simply pass the blame. The story itself gets interrupted suddenly. One minute Jesus is following this man to heal his daughter and the next moment Jesus has stopped to deal with a side issue, yet another need. This man who impressed Jesus because he was a ruler in the synagogue (Jewish meeting place) and had humbled himself and fallen on his knees to plead for his daughter’s life. Jesus’ diversion was a slap in the face, an unscheduled pit stop, an inconvenience there wasn’t time for. At least that’s how I would have seen it.
But not this man. There was something truly different about him. He didn’t stand over Jesus tapping at his watch as the Savior met another immediate need. He refused to demand Jesus continue on his original flight plan to his house. He neglected to throw a temper tantrum and stomp his feet and scream aloud in frustration. He decided against whispering to those around him, gossiping about how this Jesus claimed to be one thing and do something for me, then get side-tracked for this hideous, wreck of a woman. Someone unworthy to wear my daughter’s dirty shoes. No words or actions emanated from this man that were not righteous at the time. Instead, he waited. Patiently.
His faith in Jesus was strong enough that he knew his daughter would be fine. I wonder if our faith has made it to that point yet. Do we sit back in patience and rejoice with others as they receive their miracle? Or do we sour on the sidelines, angry at God and wondering where our promised miracle is?
